The New Adventures of School Rumble: Book 2
by Dr. Snooch
Summary: Sequel to The New Adventures of School Rumble: Book 1; Harima and Tenma are a couple, finally, and they are very much in love. Now, forces from both outside and inside will stop at nothing to tear them apart.
1. Prelude

**Prelude**

He entered the classroom, and he saw her instantly.

Kenji Harima's smooth, angular face squinted in an admiring smile as he regarded her, and as he did so, she seemed to notice him as well. She offered a similar smile in return, shrugging her shoulders with a stifled giggle.

Tsukamoto Tenma stood up and approached him from the desk where her and her friends had gathered. Her long, black hair flowed out behind her easily, perfectly. The two short ponytails danced happily on the sides of her head as her small figure brought her nearer to the young man she called her boyfriend.

Her face was fair, more or less a common appearance, as most other guys at the school were concerned—only Harima appreciated her comely face, adorned with a couple of dark blue eyes.

Although seeming perpetually light and happy, her eyes denied their youthful appearance, as they held an unseen sadness wrought of bitter experience.

Harima could hardly find his breath. He had always thought Tenma cute—far cuter than any other girl he'd known before—and her beauty had increased for him in their time together, as he had come to appreciate the depth of the young woman even more as they grew ever closer.

Now, combining that honest respect and love with the physical image proved too much for him.

He fell over her with a great, crushing hug, interrupting her words with kiss after kiss, lifting her with ease right from the ground and burying his face in that mane of black hair. How tiny Tenma seemed in his arms, for Harima stood about two and a half heads taller than her and was nearly twice her body weight.

Smiling widely, Harima scooped her more comfortably into his arms, spinning her to the side and sliding one arm under her knees.

"Are you making fun of me?" asked Tenma with strained embarrassment, suppressing her titter, and she snuck a glance at her friends, who blushed and snickered amongst themselves, taking in the sappy scene with typical girl's gusto.

At the desk, Mikoto Suou, Akira Takano and Eri Sawichka sat together, their attentions stolen by the sentimentality of the scene. Mikoto and Akira smiled wistfully at the scene but Eri watched it in anxious humor, for she had recently tried to seduce Harima in the ladies room.

"Making fun of you?" Harima echoed Tenma incredulously, and he laughed again, all the louder. He kissed her again, and then launched into a spinning dance, swinging her all about, and Tenma gave a long squeal, which became a delighted laugh.

"I love you!" he proclaimed proudly, and he kissed her hard on the cheek, which drew some stares, as Harima had been renowned as a tough-guy type, a classic delinquent.

Tenma rolled her eyes in mock weariness of Harima's claim. She looked up at him.

Harima was giving her a long, expectant look.

The eldest Tsukamoto knew what that look meant. She bent up and planted a peck on Kenji's cheek, then settled back, smiling at him. "Put me down now?" she asked.

Harima paused, as if to consider the proposal. He shrugged. "Okay," he said simply, letting Tenma easily down to her feet.

On her feet again, she turned to him, and she stepped into him, grasping Harima's hands. They stood there for a moment, staring deep into each other's eyes. They leaned in and connected their noses, shaking their heads from side-to-side softly, thus achieving what is commonly referred to as an "Eskimo Kiss".

"Looks like Tenma's found herself a love-puppy," remarked Mikoto mirthfully from the side, giving Akira a playful shove on the shoulder.

"Indeed," agreed Akira, letting a private smile cross her lips.

They enjoyed the spectacle for a few moments before the bell rang, and door opened up.

"Enough of that," said Mr. Tani, the homeroom teacher for Class 2-C, urging Harima and Tenma to stop their love-fest.

Quiet chuckles sounded throughout the classroom at that statement, and the couple dislodged from each other's embraces. As they took their proper seats, they regretted nothing, sneaking sly, loving looks at each other.

The two had hit it off just a little more than a week before, interestingly enough. They had found each other in the midst of the aftermath of a traumatic event in Tenma's life, as she had been raped by her long-time crush Karasuma Oji. Harima had subsequently stopped Karasuma during the rape and he and the assailant were forced into a struggle to decide the young Tsukamoto's fate; Harima had won out in the end. Tenma had fallen in love with Harima as a result, and Kenji had loved her for a substantially longer time before _she_ realized it. They had finally revealed their feelings toward one another while they watched the sunset on the evening after Tenma's despoilment.

The two lovebirds sat next to each other, and they reached out, seizing their lovers' hands and giving a gentle squeeze.

* * *

Haruki Hanai turned up his sharp nose as he saw the girl's ankle disappear into the portal. He was the Official Class Representative for Class 2-C, as was his most prized title. The young man was also a martial artist of no small skill, and he was quite astute in his studies.

There was one major flaw to his character, however, and that was his obsessive personality—especially when it came to a particular girl.

Hanai had just finished following his love interest: Tsukamoto Yakumo. Whilst following her from afar, she had entered the girl's bathroom, effectively cutting him off from his chase.

He couldn't help it—he had to leave her to her business.

Haruki Hanai adjusted his bulky rectangular glasses and stroked his short hair, righting himself, as he had come to discover that he had adopted a slouch as he had stalked Yakumo.

He knew that his behavior was growing slightly more and more rash, but he knew that it was for the best that he did so.

Hanai had to protect her from that animal, Kenji Harima—a most despicable delinquent in class 2-C. That rat bastard was getting too close to Yakumo, he believed. He had decided to check Harima by knocking him down a flight of stairs, but only a few days later, he learned that he had taken Yakumo somewhere again.

He turned the corner in the hall easily, making his way to his designated classroom. On his way there, however, he overheard something that piqued his interest more than a little.

"You know that Tsukamoto girl, don't you?" asked some girl a few yards away.

Hanai, engaging his creep-mode, stalked quietly closer to eavesdrop.

"Yeah," came the expected answer from some other girl. "What about her?" she asked.

"She was getting cozy with that Harima guy during class today," the first girl explained excitably.

"Oh?"

Hanai turned pale, his face twisting in monstrous incredulity as the words reached his ears. He steeled himself and picked up his pace, trudging up closer behind the two girls.

"Yeah, they were hugging and kissing —right in front of everyone!" she said excitably. "They are so cute together, it's unbelievable!"

Hanai stopped in his tracks.

Hugging?

_Kissing_?

Yakumo and Harima?

Fuck that noise…


	2. A New Development

**A/N**: _Here it is, the moment you've all been waiting for! Dr. Snooch is back in the house, dropping a brand-spankin' new chapter after a long hiatus from writing. Feels good, doesn't it? You don't have to be deprived of your favorite School Rumble Fanfiction any longer, 'cause I'm getting back into the writing game a little bit._  
_So now, without further ado, I present the latest installation of The New Adventures of School Rumble!_

**Chapter 1**

**A New Development**

He howled and whooped, scrambling on all fours in a desperate struggle to flee, but before he reached a safe distance, a strong hand caught a hold around the hem his uniform's collar, stopping him dead, and affording him a stifling amount of impact on his neck, causing a brief sensation of suffocation.

With a grunt, she pumped her arm backward, hurling poor Imadori back into her terrible range of attack. The Mexican-born student threw a haymaker into his face, followed by another of equal force—then another and another, much to Imadori's consistent pleas to put a stop to his anguish.

Lara Gonzales, her dark complexion a result of her Mexican heritage, had stark black hair, which she had tied up into a ponytail, and two curled locks at either sides of her head framed her sharp face. In truth, since she was born in Mexico, and because of her father, she practiced the fighting stylings of Lucha Libre, and was subsequently a part of the school's amateur wrestling club, alongside Karen Ichijo, whom she's always considered a rival.

Imadori let out another wail, but it was cut short as Lara clamped both her hands together and hurled them down toward his face like a sledgehammer, reducing Imadori's scream to little more than a mewl.

Sprawled on the floor as he was, it was all he could manage to raise a shaky arm up for a meager semblance of defense. That gesture of resistance only spurred the angry Lara on, and she swatted that desperate hand away, then proceeded to kick him hard in the ribs, and in response, Imadori curled into a defensive position, riding out the assault with typical patience.

"Lara!" cried out a gentle voice from a few strides away, and the dark-skinned girl regarded it sourly. "What did he do this time?" asked Karen Ichijo, her tone clearly accusing the girl from class 2-D.

Karen Ichijo was a student in class 2-C, possessed of readily-apparent small measures, in terms of body mass—and breast size, all things considered. (Little is it known that she actually binds them regularly for her wrestling career!) Her dark green hair cascaded gently down to her shoulders, and like all other girls at this time of day, she was clad in her school uniform. Ichijo, ever the polite, timid girl, was in possession of superhuman-caliber strength, which afforded her a myriad of different reactions, ranging typically from "talented" to "freakish". Indeed, it was that prowess in both matters of strength and wrestling that had made Lara so competitive towards her.

Lara Gonzales straightened and twitched her head to the side, flipping her bangs—which had been dislodged during her vicious assault—aside, then scoffed dismissively. "The bastard tried touching my breasts from behind!" she inculpated harshly with that heavy Spanish accent of hers.

From below, Imadori snickered quietly. "The double-under-scoop," he confirmed, his voice just barely a whisper, but loud enough for Lara to hear.

Kyosuke Imadori was silenced with a sharp kick to the groin, flattening him limply to the floor.

Ichijo's features softened at that admission, for it ever pained her when Imadori paid such lewd attention to other girls—particularly when that attention was never paid to _herself_!

"Well," she started quietly. "It's no excuse to hurt him like that!" finished Karen, the second part of her statement voiced with more exclamation than the first.

"_Este hijo de puta se lo merecía_!" retorted Lara ferociously in her native tongue, animatedly flailing her arms in a fit of rage.

Karen's face screwed up in confusion, and she was silent for a few moments, quite at a loss.

"He deserved it," clarified Lara evenly, her anger seeming to dissipate somewhat.

"Then he got what he deserved," reasoned Ichijo, kneeling down near to the injured Imadori. "There's no need to continue hurting him,"

At that, Lara turned up her nose and huffed. "Suficiente para ese hijo de puta..." she growled under her breath, turning around indignantly and stomping away.

Karen stuck around, kneeling at Kyosuke's side in an effort to help him to his feet—but because of that last attack, it appeared as though he wouldn't be moving for quite a while yet.

Ichijo could only shake her head and implore the young man to try to stand.

* * *

The end of the school week had come, at long last. The clamor of excitable discussion and movement sounded all around him as he minded his daily ritual, picking his way calmly through his locker, placing and replacing his belongings as needed.

Kenji Harima inserted his books into the cubby, but paused as he heard the clomping of feet as someone was running—running towards _him_, he sensed!

Just as he began to turn around, she came barreling in, leaping with outstretched hands at him and knocking both of them to the floor.

Tenma was clamped tightly about his chest, her head tilted up and facing him with a playful grin stretched across her features. "Hey, handsome!" she greeted happily, both of her ponytails jumping cheerfully on the sides of her head.

In response, Harima gave her a sneer and planted a kiss on her lips, which she accepted with vigorous enthusiasm.

"Oh, Tenma," Harima sighed when they finally broke apart, shaking his head in both disbelief and satisfaction, still amazed at his good luck for having Tenma fall in love with him. Never in his wildest machinations did he ever dare to dream that he and Tenma would ever be so zealous in terms of their love—especially on school grounds! As he considered her more closely, he noted that Tsukamoto was already in her sweater.

"Aren't you coming?" Tenma asked him as they both stood up, brushing the dust from her skirt and pointedly indicating her pink pullover. "I've been waiting for—like—ever for you!"

"Yeah, yeah," chuckled Kenji, closing his locker up and quickly throwing his jacket over his shoulders. "Let's go," he said, turning around and heading toward the exit doors, deliberately sticking out his elbow, which, to his budding joy, Tenma quickly took hold of, adhering herself to his side.

* * *

The younger Tsukamoto, Yakumo, had watched Harima and her sister's intimate interactions from afar, half-obscured, standing at the corner of the intersecting hallways. She watched the couple disappear away, presumably on their way out of the school. Yakumo sighed audibly when they were out of sight, and she shook her head, trying to put those disconcerting thoughts to rest.

Her emotions as of late were in a state of perpetual tumult since Harima and Tenma started seeing each other those two weeks ago. Tenma, in the throes of unimaginable distress from being attacked so dreadfully by that beast Oji Karasuma, had found comfort in Harima's embrace.

Tenma had confronted her about her feelings on that matter—of her growing relationship Harima—and Yakumo had given the despoiled Tsukamoto her blessings, thereby giving Tenma sanction to pursue a meaningful relationship with her sunglasses-wearing hero.

In truth, she had actually smothered her true feelings.

Yakumo was hopelessly in love with Harima—that much she had already admitted to herself. She'd tried a handful of subtle hints to Harima that didn't take any discernible effect. So on that day of truth, when Tenma had confronted her, it was with a heavy heart that she forfeited Harima to her sister, despite her understanding that was in Tenma's need of comfort and reassurance in that dark time.

Shaking her head once more, she dismissed those upsetting remembrances away, then started forward, but paused as a commotion abruptly stole her attention.

"Red alert, red alert!" called a forceful whisper. "Hanai inbound!"

Sarah Adiemus was a member of a local church in Yagami, playing the role of a nun regularly. Her pearly white skin, smeared pleasantly with a pink blush, matched her strawberry blonde hair, which she kept in a chic bun atop her head. As Yakumo's best friend, she had recently taken it upon herself to aid her to avoid the snooping Haruki Hanai, who openly pursued a romantic connection with the poor Tsukamoto—who, as it was commonly known—clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

Sarah skittered to a stop at Yakumo's side, then, grabbing a hold of Yakumo's arm, she turned her back on the wider part of the hallway, pulling the younger Tsukamoto into a similar motion, the both of them coming to stiffly face the wall in a nondescript position.

The two of them could practically feel Hanai behind them, rushing down the hall, most likely seeking out the youngest Tsukamoto. Thankfully, he was out of sight a few heartbeats later, vanishing around the corner, followed by the sound of the door slamming open.

"That was too close," sighed Sarah with a quiet laugh while she and Yakumo relaxed and turned around.

"Thanks," breathed Yakumo, softly nodding her appreciation to Sarah.

"No problem, Yakumo," replied Sarah with a sly wink. Then, with a sudden sharp clap, she announced, "But we should probably be heading home soon—lest Hanai comes back!"

"Yeah," agreed the youngest Tsukamoto. The two had made plans to have Yakumo stay at Sarah's house as a guest for the night that day. "I've really needed some time away from home. It's been a while since I've been able to relax,"

"Why's that?" asked Sarah, turning her head to the side with no small amount of concern in her voice.

"I'm not sure," answered Yakumo slowly, with a slight shake of her head.

Sarah nodded, not fully understanding, but not unsuspecting that something was amiss with her friend.

Indeed, Yakumo wasn't keen about disclosing her reason for suddenly deciding to stay at Sarah's house on such short notice.

Tenma and Harima had planned out an evening at their house, and she didn't think she could suffer to see it play out.

* * *

Harima straddled the motorcycle and bent over the side of the vehicle, then sat back up, producing two helmets. He unceremoniously slipped his own on, an opaque tan in color and sporting a pair of safety goggles above its edge, letting the chinstraps dangle uselessly on the sides of his head.

"Here," said Harima as he handed the second one to Tenma, who was shifting eagerly from side-to-side adjacent to him, and she let out an excited laugh as she grabbed the glossy ruby-colored helmet and placed it on her head, buckling the chinstrap without a moment's delay.

The reformed delinquent adjusted himself in his seat with a swift bounce and slid a key into the ignition, then twisted it to the right. With a loud cough, the engine rumbled to life, and Harima reached up both of his hands and grasped the handlebars. He twisted the one on his right a couple times, loudly revving the engine.

"Okay Tenma," called Harima above the thundering cackle of the bike, turning his head to face her. "You can get on now,"

The eldest Tsukamoto could barely contain herself as she looped her leg over and settled astride the seat of the humming motorcycle, sliding up behind Harima. Wrapping her arms around Kenji's torso, she leaned closely to his back and let her hands surreptitiously stroke Harima's muscular abdominals causing hot blood to rush into her cheeks.

Tenma smiled back at the clear envy on the countenances of many on-looking girls, many of them chattering and giggling with one another as they studied the scene. She was living that classic romantic archetype, she knew—the boyfriend with a motorcycle—and she couldn't have been more pleased at that moment, settling an affectionate gaze upon Harima's back.

"Hang on!" was all the warning Tenma was afforded from Harima before they were summarily thundering down the road.

* * *

Hanai pealed through the hallway in a rush, sprinting and skidding throughout the near-empty halls in a desperate run for the exit. The Class Representative of Class 2-C gnashed his teeth in frustration as his legs continued to carry him with all speed toward the school yard. A whole week had passed by, and Yakumo had somehow managed to avoid him each day.

_My dear Yakumo! Is Harima concealing you from me deliberately?_ thought Hanai frantically.

He knew he had to reach her somehow. Haruki Hanai had made a solemn promise to himself that he would protect Yakumo, and he wasn't about to fail in his personal mission.

Within moments, he found himself sprinting at the double-doors of the main entrance, and he slammed into the portals, both outstretched arms leading, and burst out of the doors with such force, the clatter of the movement had surrounding students reeling with stunned confusion.

He arrived at the school's entrance just in time to hear the telltale roar of Harima's motorcycle as its engine started.

_Damn that rebel bastard! I'm too late again!_ Hanai thought, his mind humming like a raging hive of bees. _I just have to rescue dear, sweet Yakumo from that goddamned Harima!_

As he rushed towards the gates, Hanai heard the motorcycle begin to drive away. With an audible growl, he sprinted into the road and skidded to an abrupt stop, staring in the direction of the fast-moving vehicle with a look that was mixture of both hate and longing, catching a mere glimpse of the receding image of the motorcycle as it sped off into the distance.

He saw her flowing black hair.

It was all he saw for the remainder of that day.

* * *

Tsukamoto's smile took to her ears as she pressed herself tighter against Harima's back, her arms still hooked around his midsection. Her hair billowed and flapped in the chill wind behind her as they rumbled across the road on the cliff's edge, eventually leading them into a common-looking Japanese neighborhood.

They finally came upon the House Tsukamoto—a rather remarkable affair: a two-story home with a traditional wooden exterior, each floor marked by its own roof apparatus—built in that common pagoda style—so that the house looked like two houses stacked on top of each other. On the anterior face of the house a wooden balcony jutted out of the second story, adding to the elegance of the edifice. The entrance was marked by a wooden, roofed gate flanked by a hedge framing the entirety of the iron-and-stone fencing.

Harima slowed as they approached, and kicked the bike to a stop right before the entrance gate, smirking as he booted the kickstand into place. Tenma slid off of the seat, offered Harima a quick peck on the cheek, then headed up the walk in a cheerful skip.

"You're gonna pick me up in an hour, right?" called Tenma, abruptly spinning around on her heel.

"Absolutely," promised Harima. "Then we can get our _date_ started proper!" he finished, and his smile was sincere when Tenma flashed him that wondrous grin, removing the helmet from her head and shaking her hair into a graceful bounce.

His eyes followed her amorously as she spun back around and resumed her skipping gait toward the house, and lingered there even after she was inside.

He let out a quiet chuckle and took off, rumbling toward the city, headed for Itoko's apartment.

**A/N:** _How'd you like it? (I personally think it was rather short.) Leave a comment! I love it when you do that._


	3. Chastened

**A/N:** _First of all, I'd like to say that I'm sorry that I took so long with this latest chapter. My goal was to release a new chapter every week, but I couldn't manage it, what with school and other whatnots. So every two weeks is my **new** goal. Anyhoo, I'm sort of babbling now, so I'll just let you jump right in, how's that sound?_

**Chapter 2**

**Chastened**

As he stepped inside, Harima was greeted by the sight of Itoko Osakabe sitting sidelong on the sofa, her eyes turned toward the television as she picked some noodles out of a Styrofoam cup with a pair of chopsticks. Her calm visage oscillated in Kenji's direction as he entered, her dark violet-colored hair swaying gently with the slight action.

Itoko, Harima's older cousin, had allowed Harima to live with her in her two-room apartment, on the condition that he attend school. For not only was she his cousin and essentially his landlord, she was also one of his school teachers.

"Kenji," she welcomed with typical offhandedness. "Good thing you're here. I've got a list of chores for you to do,"

Harima was shaking his head through every word. "Sorry Itoko; can't do it. I've got a date with Tenma in an hour," Harima informed her with a cursory glance.

Itoko rose an eyebrow at Harima's admission, but her expression shifted back to her cool and collected state, and she snickered. "Fine… I suppose it would be a shame if you missed a date with her, judging by how long it took you to get the balls to ask her out."

Kenji just grunted in response, making his way toward his room.

"A date with Tenma," Itoko sighed wistfully, and Harima stiffened and paused at the remark. "You must be pretty happy about that,"

Harima turned an annoyed stare at his cousin, but his anger couldn't hold, and he found himself grinning sheepishly at her. "Yeah," he admitted softly, quickly turning away from her as to hide his blush.

"You know, I never asked you, Kenji," Itoko started, drawing Harima back from his introverted state. "How did you convince Tsukamoto to date your miserable ass, anyway?"

The contented look on Harima's face was wiped away as surely as if he had been slapped. "Reasons," was all he could spit out through clenched teeth, and he unleashed a withering stare upon his cousin, who didn't seem affected by it.

"Come on, Kenji," she persisted, undaunted in the face of Harima's seething gaze. "How did you do it?"

Harima looked away, not willing to relive the details. "It's kind of personal," he admitted somberly.

Sensing that the subject might be a little sensitive, Itoko rose a hand to quiet her younger cousin. "Okay then, tiger," said Itoko with a tight grin. "You don't have to tell me…just yet."

Harima stared at her for a long while, obviously more than a little suspicious.

"Just go and show Tenma a good time," she bade with a nod of her head.

Harima, for all his bluster, couldn't help but smile at the pleasant notion—of making Tenma happy. He offered Itoko an affirmative nod, then marched down the hall towards his room and eagerly commenced preparations for his and Tenma's first _official_ date.

* * *

The evening was dawning in full, the sun hanging low in the sky, splashing brilliant oranges and pinks across the firmament and the billowy clusters of overhanging clouds that decorated it. The warm colors of the day's end which bathed the surroundings magnificently and denied the chill of the wintry weather.

He was riding along steadily, sticking closely to the outer edge of the road as he pedaled his bike forward. He was aching, to be sure, but he'd successfully copped a feel for a decidedly satisfying kick.

As he winced from his bruises and a slight aggravation of his sore testes, he considered—not for the first time—if it had _really_ been worth it.

Still, he couldn't deny the thrill of his mostly-physical mode of flirting, but at what cost, when dealing with hot-headed girls like Mikoto or (more dangerously) Lara?

Ichijo had been kind to him for sticking by his side as he laid there and recovered from the initial pain of his injuries from his most recent bout with that hot-blooded Latina.

Imadori shuddered as he considered it. Karen was flat-chested… And that's not mentioning her frightening strength—strength which continued to prove to be rather unnerving for him.

_She does have a sweet booty, though…_ Imadori thought, which brought a slight grin to his face. Shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts out of his mind.

Karen really had also shown him that she was pretty cool in some ways, he admitted, despite being freakishly strong and poorly endowed. As a result of Karen's brother's fandom, she knew quite a lot about _Hatenko Robo Dozibiron_, which was Imadori's favorite show.

The two of them, Imadori and Karen, had gone on a date quite a while ago, mostly because Kyosuke had accidentally asked her out, albeit in a purely jesting and theoretical way. That was evidently lost on Karen, who had taken it quite seriously. After days of inquiries and prodding, Imadori reluctantly took her out. During their date, they went to see the _Dozibiron_ feature film.

So that was something.

As Imadori continued to contemplate the events of the day, he heard something loud approaching from the rear. He turned his head unconcernedly in the direction of the street to see a motorcycle zoom past, and ultimately disappear behind the hill in the road.

* * *

The growl of the engine alone alerted Tenma that Harima had arrived, and, shaking her head to fluff up her just-curled hair around a little, she quickly wrapped a scarf around her neck and started out of the door.

There he was, seated on the trembling seat of the motorcycle and staring back at her with a wide smile. Tenma, waving excitedly, ran up to meet him.

"Hi," greeted Tenma with a mild smile when she got to his side. "Ooh, you clean up nice!" she observed with a wink.

The young man cocked his head to the side with a pleased smirk, returning her look with one of his own, scrutinizing her up and down. "Damn," was all he said, much to Tenma's readily-apparent delight.

Harima was about to bid Tenma to get on the bike with him, but he paused, noting that she didn't have her helmet with her. Studying her more closely, he saw that she was rocking back and forth on her heels, her eyes wandering about passively, her lips pursed into a tight smile, as if she had something that she desperately wanted to say.

Harima looked down and considered his motorcycle, then glanced back up at Tsukamoto. "You want to walk?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yeah!" cried a suddenly lively Tenma, and she began tugging insistently on Harima's sleeve. "Let's walk, come on, huh? Let's do it!"

Harima shook his head, chuckling helplessly, and nodded. "Yeah, okay," he laughed, a grin still plastered easily on his face.

To the side, Tenma let out another rambunctious laugh and began to jump up and down excitedly as he switched the engine off and dismounted. Pushing it along by the handlebars, he walked the bike through the gate and onto the Tsukamoto's lawn. As he came back through the gate, Tenma threw herself at him and clasped her hand into his.

Clinging easily to each other, the two started a leisurely walk down the pavement side-by-side, heading for downtown Yagami.

"So," said Tenma, grinning widely and brushing herself closely against Harima, attracting his attention. "What do you wanna do?"

Harima shrugged noncommittally. "What ever _you_ want to do, Tenma," he decided.

"We should go to the Coffee Shop," she offered, and that seemed to satisfy Harima.

"Hey Kenji," Tenma started cheerfully. "Why don't you ever call me things like 'baby'?" she asked with a smile that spoke of self-aware naughtiness.

The question caught him off guard. Indeed, he really hadn't once called her any endearing nick-names since they had become a couple. "I guess…" he started slowly, in a state of concentration. "I feel like calling a girl 'baby' is…cliché. I'd rather call a girl 'my sunshine' or something like that."

Tenma considered his claim with a thoughtful smile. "Why don't you try it out, sweetie? Just this once?" she asked, and she stifled a giggle.

Harima blushed furiously upon Tenma using that word—clearly testing the nick-name gimmick herself. "Okay, I'll try…" he said at length, and he blew a long sigh to steady himself.

He stopped and turned to face Tenma, and with an expectant grin, she did likewise.

"Baby…" Harima began in a low, serious tone, casting an intense gaze at Tenma, and her eyes sparkled as she listened. Harima opened his mouth as if to go on, but after a moment or two of silence, only a loud chuckle came forth, and Tenma joined in his ensuing laughter.

They laughed continuously as they walked along, howling so loudly that they periodically needed to lean on each other for support.

* * *

The atmosphere in the little restaurant was refreshing, blending aspects of traditional Japan with more modern, western styles. The cozy, decidedly homey establishment was furnished with clusters of small, ornate tables, which fit typically two persons at a time (although a third party could fit if they were willing to sacrifice a bit of personal space).

Along the olive-green walls facing the windows—on which hung plush pink curtains—there was a great, long leather booth seat, stretching from a corner marking the entrance, to the next corner of the wall a ways away. The place was lit comfortably with circular fluorescent lights embedded into the ceiling, bathing the room in a dim ginger color.

Al Cado was the name of the comfortable little café, and was rather a popular spot in the city. It was also the place Tenma had held her birthday party, which Harima hadn't attended due to his shame from the _Bathroom Incident_.

Tsukamoto Tenma and Kenji Harima were seated comfortably across from each other, at a table a few feet away from the entrance.

She sucked gingerly on the straw of her iced tea, offering Harima a seductive look, cocking her head to the side, narrowing her eyes to accentuate her eyelashes and tightening a timid smile around the thin tube.

Tenma's little smile widened considerably when she noticed Harima straightening excitedly in his chair as he took in the sight of her seductive poise. She lifted her head up straight again, releasing the straw from her lips.

"What're you thinking about?" she asked innocently, drawing a suddenly panicked look from Harima, and she giggled as he tried to stutter out a proper response.

As Harima continued his embarrassed stammering, Tenma reached both her hands across the table and grasped Harima's, which silenced him. "It's okay," she laughed, dismissing the rhetorical question.

She settled back as Harima calmed, removing her hands from his. Looking around, Tenma began their conversation anew.

"You know, Yakumo works here as a waitress every other day," the eldest Tsukamoto remarked, to which Harima nodded knowingly.

"Yeah," Harima confirmed, casting his gaze upward as he recollected his thoughts. "This is where she first started helping me with my work," he said with a wistful smile.

Tenma perked up at that.

"Oh yeah!" she exclaimed, leaning forward eagerly in her seat. "We never talked about that! I still don't know what your 'work' is!"

Harima started to explain but stopped himself as he considered it. Would Tenma understand? How could he explain that his work was all predicated on _her_ without sounding suspect of foul play?

"Well?" pressed Tenma, planting her head in her upturned hands, supported by her elbows, which rested easily on the table. "Come on! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

Kenji swallowed hard, finding it overwhelmingly difficult to ignore the prodding of Tenma's irresistible cuteness. Reminding himself that Tenma was his adoring girlfriend, he began.

"I confess!" he started dramatically. "I draw manga!"

Tenma's face brightened at that admission. "Wait… You're an artist, Kenji?"

"Yes," answered a flushed Harima.

"What are your comics about?" she asked, and from somewhere in the recesses of Harima's mind, he heard a solemn, condemning bell toll.

Harima held his tongue, afraid to answer.

"Harima, come on!" she laughed, leaning up and shoving Harima on the shoulder. "Don't be shy; I'm not gonna laugh at you or anything!"

Blowing a steadying breath, Harima threw aside his fears and put himself nakedly before Tenma, praying that she would judge him fairly.

"They're about you," he admitted soberly, with a weak smile.

"About me?" she asked skeptically. "What do you mean?"

He told her everything.

Kenji explained how, in the midst of anguish of unrequited love, he had found solace in writing manga, which helped to ease his troubled mind. He told her about his short-lived odyssey: in despair, he boarded a fishing boat in an attempt to begin a new life on the high seas, where his crewmates mocked him for continuing to draw during his time on the voyage. He told her about his job opportunities at the Zinegama manga company—leaving out the details about Karasuma, who was a rather famous manga artist by the penname of Jo Nijou. And most of all, he elaborated on the all-important subject matter, a romantic connection between two certain continually recurring characters.

"So I'm the heroine?" asked Tenma when he was finished relaying his tale. "And you're the hero?"

"That's right," he answered quietly.

"That's so _awesome_!" Tenma cried, and she squealed in delight, slapping both of her hands on her blushing cheeks, turning from side-to-side in her seat. "Oh Harima, that's so romantic!"

Harima transformed then, seeming to inflate to massive proportions as he puffed out his chest powerfully, veritably brimming with indescribable gladness from making Tenma so pleased. "Oh God, Tenma," he breathed. "You are the queen of my world,"

Tsukamoto Tenma shot him a curious smile at his relieved tone. "What? What did you expect?"

"I thought you would think that was a fuckin' creep!" admitted Harima with a laugh. "Writing stories about you and me without your knowledge or consent!"

"Don't be silly!" said Tenma, rolling her eyes at him. "Any girl would be flattered to have inspired someone's art,"

Harima nodded, a dumb smile creasing his lips.

It wasn't long after that when Harima and Tenma were outside again, greeted by a harsh wind chill.

Shivering, their breath coming in visible puffs of vapor, Tenma turned to Harima. "Let's go home," she decided simply, and Harima didn't argue, the two of them making for the House Tsukamoto with all speed.

* * *

"Geez!" sighed Tenma, kicking off her boots as she entered her home, Harima following close behind. "It's colder than a witch's titty out there!"

"Yeah, that was intense," agreed Harima from behind, shutting the door and shedding his leather jacket. "But is it really okay if I come in like this?"

"It's no fuss," Tenma assured him as she rubbed her hands together to generate some warmth. "Yakumo isn't here, so we've got the whole house to ourselves."

Kenji nodded at the simple logic, pulling his shoes from his feet and setting them neatly next to Tenma's.

Tsukamoto crossed her arms over her chest and shivered a bit. "I think I'll make us some coffee," she offered, starting forward.

"We just got back from Al Cado," reminded Harima with a smirk as Tenma disappeared around the corner, headed for the kitchen.

"I'm cold, though!" Tenma shouted from the other room, and Harima grinned all the wider.

Kenji walked onto the tatami of the living area, where a kotatsu stood in the middle of the room and a TV set laid upon a small cupboard.

"Hey Kenji!" called Tenma from the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

"No!" blurted Harima rather harshly, but he caught himself, easing his tone. "I'm fine,"

Tenma had a heart of gold, but there was a certain flaw to her perfection that stood out to Harima's idealistic sensibilities. The eldest Tsukamoto was a famously awful cook, and Kenji, who had eaten much of her food, once described her as an artist at offensive cuisine.

But if she were to cook something for him, he would make _damn_ sure to muscle it down for the sake of her feelings.

"Okee-Dokee!" she called back, seeming not to have noticed Harima's sharp tone, much to his relief. "Just let me know if you want anything, okay?"

"All right," he called back, sauntering to the kotatsu and picking up the TV remote. He pointed it to the small screen and clicked the "power" button.

The image of various samurai interacting backed by a familiar tune—the one on his and Tenma's cell phones—was suddenly flashing before his eyes.

"Make some popcorn!" shouted Harima, the timbre of his voice revealing his sudden thrill. "_Three For The Kill_'s on!"

A clatter from the kitchen revealed Tenma's similar excitement, and moments later, she came speed-walking into the room, repeating "Please be the one with Sho," over and over again.

Eventually, the two were nestled closely to one another, sitting on (and covered by) a pile of blankets and pillows from Tenma's bedroom with a large bowl of popcorn between them.

Snuggled closely to Harima's side, Tenma periodically shoveled large handfuls of the buttery snack into her transfixed face, her eyes wide with obvious awe as she stared at the events playing out on the screen.

* * *

_He walked with a calm gait, the grass crunching softly beneath his feet, his arms tucked easily inside his dark samurai robes. The forestry was peacefully hushed, save for the chirping birds and the sound of the samurai's bamboo sandals meeting the grass at rhythmic intervals._

_ As the silent Japanese warrior strode along, a black form flashed out through the trees of bamboo behind him._

_ The samurai seemed not to notice._

_ In the canopy above, another black form quickly sprung away, causing the leaves to rustle quietly._

_ The samurai seemed not to notice._

_ With a swish, the black form descended, plummeting toward the seemingly vulnerable samurai, a long, curved blade leading._

_ The sound of steel slashing flesh sounded ominously through the quiet forest._

_ He crashed wordlessly to the ground, a line of bright red blood torn from the shoulder down to the groin._

_ So fast and fluid was the strike, the sword seemed to have simply appeared in his hands, just like all the legends said. Mangoku was the leader of a ragtag group of mercenary samurai, yet unlike most other mercenary bands, scruples were of their highest priority._

_ "I think not, assassins of Affwin Wi," proclaimed the unperturbed Mangoku, calmly wiping his blade on his sleeve._

_ At that, a babble of angry shouts erupted from the brush as a dozen men brandishing katanas came forth._

* * *

The television program played before them for another thirty minutes, the two of them occasionally interacting with the characters on TV by shouting things like "Get 'em, Mangoku!"

"That was the _best_!" sighed Tenma as the credits started to roll, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head. "Mangoku is the bomb!"

She turned to face Harima, who was turned squarely on her, a cold, unreadable expression frozen on his countenance. Tenma was about to ask him if something was wrong before he suddenly broke into a practiced monologue.

"The foolish so-called samurai Mangoku thinks that he can match the power of Nurangshio, shogun of the Mantis Claw clan?" he recited in a low bellow, raising up a pillow in a two-handed grip. "Come and feel the bite of wrapped steel, dog!"

A mischievous grin crossed Tenma's lips and her eyes brightened with a spark of flame, slowly rising to a crouch, pulling up a pillow of her own in a similar two-handed grip. "You presume much," recited Tenma in her best Mangoku impression. "If you're so sure you can best me, then let's see it!"

With a snarl, Harima lifted the pillow over his head and swung it down at Tenma, who expertly brought the pillow up to block, and the connecting pillows made a dull _thump_ sound.

Tsukamoto Tenma fell into a slow sidelong roll, then came up with a stabbing motion, which was parried by Harima's cushion, and they continued the almost idiotic dance for quite a while. Indeed, they were as children at play, slapping each other with pillows, and it wasn't before long that they threw away the pillows altogether, engaging in a wrestling match on the floor, breathing hard and laughing harder.

Then it came to a stop as Tenma put her finishing move into effect, leaping upon Harima and toppling them both to the floor, back into the wild tangle of blankets and pillows, where they both collapsed.

The two were in sitting positions on the blankets, staring at each other, and Tenma didn't flinch as Harima bent toward her, reaching his hand out to her.

Kenji brushed his hand over her face, softly tracing over her jaw as he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. He brushed his hand down to her neck, then over her shoulder, and down her side, leaning closer, pressing more urgently into her. The intensity of his kiss increased as he continued to slowly arch into her, and soon Tenma found herself half-laying in the mess of blankets and pillows.

Harima pulled back, freeing her lips from his, and backed up a bit to look adoringly into her big blue eyes.

She was blushing deeply, staring back at him. Then it was her turn to kiss him, and Harima reciprocated fiercely, daring to tongue around her closed lips, which she opened in reply, allowing Harima to sink his mouth into hers in an eager French kiss.

Tenma moaned beneath the kiss, and began to grope at Harima's back, gently clawing at the material.

Harima abruptly broke off the kiss, coming up to kneel over her, and in the blink of an eye, he had his shirt up over his head, tossing it away without any thought, and he was upon her again.

Kenji was serious! The young Tsukamoto knew all too well that Harima was a very passionate person—she had suspected things to escalate this far in any case, and so she braced herself as she watched Harima go eagerly to work, hurriedly pulling the buttons loose from her shirt.

Tenma shrugged, letting the top of her blouse fall down past her shoulders, and she leaned back into the soft mound of pillows. It was all she could do just to accept the tingling sensation as Harima buried his face into her collar, kissing her neck and deeply taking in her scent.

"Kenji," she moaned, spreading out across the blankets.

"Tenma," muttered Harima in quiet whispers between kisses. "You are my sunshine…"

Tenma groped and pulled at the back of his head, running her fingers through his thick hair as he slid down, climbing down toward her breast.

Harima spent quite a while there, and her body just kept getting warmer as they continued to grind into one another.

The eldest Tsukamoto squirmed and shuddered nervously as she watched Kenji descend once more, tickling her belly with little kisses as he made his way down.

Time slowed as Harima made his reverent, deliberate way down, and images flashed again in Tenma's mind—visions of the only other sexual encounter that she had participated in—no, the only one she had been subjected to.

She smelled the biting odor of curry again, felt the keen sensation of intrusion; the touch of Karasuma.

But she glanced down at Harima and considered his almost-maudlin approach—the way he gently slid his hands across her flesh. She tried to relax, consciously reminding herself that it was different this time—this was a necessary discharge of mutual love.

Harima, inhaling deeply, silently began to remove her pants, his fingers digging along the hem of her leggings. Despite herself, she stiffened uncomfortably.

"Please," she whispered, and Harima kept at it unshaken.

"Kenji," she whispered more loudly, in a tone that expressed her growing desperation. "Please…!"

The half-naked Harima paused at her audible discomposure, and he hurriedly climbed back up her body to look her in the eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I can't do this…" whispered Tenma, her breath coming to her in discreet gasps.

"But Tenma…" replied Harima stupidly, and he pointedly nodded toward their mutual toplessness. "Tenma, what's wrong?"

Tsukamoto Tenma sucked in her breath and paused thoughtfully. "Harima," she started, and she interrupted herself with a hard swallow. "Baby, I was raped two weeks ago…" she reminded him quietly, and that stole all room for debate.

Harima's shoulders slumped, but he nodded, and then he pulled himself up into a sitting position. "I understand," he said simply in a shallow whisper.

Pulling her shirt back over her body, Tenma leaned forward. "I'm sorry…"

Harima held forth a hand. "No, Tenma," said Harima firmly. "You've got absolutely nothing to be sorry about. It's my fault,"

Tenma nodded, but she knew that it was her own frightened imaginings that had punctuated the evening on an awkward note. She silently cursed herself for being too weak—too selfish—to make love to her boyfriend and to consummate their relationship. As she allowed Harima to grasp her hands and plant a tender kiss upon them, she swore that she would make it up to him somehow.

Now it was clear to him that the scars of Tenma's pain had not yet fully healed. His advance had been reckless and foolish and could have endangered their entire relationship! That, Harima simply could not stomach. As he grasped both Tenma's hands and kissed them, he swore that he would make it up to her somehow.

**A/N:** _Snap. Well, that about does it for now. What did you think? A little heavy-handed, huh? I thought so, too. So like always, please review; tell me what you think (or give me shit if you want)._


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